


I Close My Eyes (and he has found me)

by lastdream



Series: On My Own [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastdream/pseuds/lastdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras loves Grantaire, but he thinks Grantaire's feelings for him are only physical. Then he gets an earful of Grantaire's fantasies, and they're not what he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Close My Eyes (and he has found me)

**Author's Note:**

> No actual sex in this part, but I called it explicit to be safe.

Let it not be said that Enjolras is oblivious.

He isn’t.

He can pick out all the flaws in an opponent’s argument before they’ve even finished delivering it. He can tell you the name, biography, and voting history of any elected official you can find. He can bring a crowd from milling and mingling to fever pitch in a matter of minutes.

He’s just… individually challenged, Courfeyrac would say. He can’t read people like he can read a crowd, can’t tell what they’re feeling like his friends can. He can’t even decipher his own feelings when he gets too focused on his work.

That’s why it took him months to realize that he was developing feelings for Grantaire at all. By the time he did, he had bypassed ‘like’ completely and landed solidly in love with a man who apparently existed to antagonize him. Once he was sure of his own feelings, Enjolras had gone straight to Coufeyrac.

Courfeyrac had sat him down, listened passively and patiently for the five minutes it took Enjolras to explain, and then laughed until he was gasping for air.

“This is serious!” he’d complained, scowling at Courfeyrac.

“Only you, Enjolras, only you,” Courfeyrac had responded, still laughing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Then Enjolras had moved to the spot next to Courfeyrac and slumped against his shoulder.

“He hates me,” he’d mumbled into his shirt, and Courfeyrac had suddenly become very serious.

“Enjolras. Hey, hey, Enj—“ Courfeyrac had lifted Enjolras’s chin with gentle fingers and looked him straight in the eye. “This probably isn’t going to be easy, but believe me, he doesn’t hate you. Just watch him a little more closely, okay?” Enjolras had nodded and curled back into Courfeyrac while they watched a movie.

And he had watched. He had kept a close eye on Grantaire, and found, much more often than he expected, that Grantaire was looking back. 

Enjolras saw the heat in Grantaire’s eyes, and felt— kind of disappointed, really. 

So what if Grantaire thinks he’s attractive? Lots of people think he’s attractive— hell, even Courfeyrac is attracted to him, and they’re best friends. But it hurts, just a little, to think that he’s in love with Grantaire and Grantaire just wants to get in his pants.

And still he can’t stay away. He has been and still is friends with people who are attracted to him, and it hasn’t been unmanageable before. He does his best to spend time with Grantaire, pleasantly, not just arguing (he wishes he could call it debating, but it never stays civil enough for that). They share a table and talk after meetings while everyone is still hanging out, or end up sitting next to each other when everyone goes out to dinner together. Enjolras blames (thanks) Courfeyrac for that. Eventually they progress to something more like alone time, after all the Amis have left and it’s just the two of them at the back table of the Musain. 

About a month after Enjorlas realizes he’s in love, he and Grantaire keep talking for more than an hour after the meeting is over, and then Grantaire rushes off, leaving his jacket over the back of his chair. Enjolras calls out to let him know, but he’s already gone, and Enjolras is just standing there holding his jacket.

He sets it down, carefully gathers up all of his things, and packs them into his bag (it isn’t a purse, Courfeyrac). Then he sits and calls Combeferre, because Courfeyrac would probably laugh at this dilemma.

“He left his jacket here,” Enjolras begins. Combeferre, blessedly, immediately knows what he’s talking about.

“When are you going to give it back?”

“I don’t know.”

“You could bring it to his apartment, but he might not be there. You could wait until the next meeting, but then you won’t see him.” Combeferre is blunt and to the point and Enjolras loves him for it.

“I think he’ll be there,” says Enjolras. Grantaire only just left a couple of minutes ago, and he’d mentioned that he was going home.

“Then you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of him.”

“I didn’t say you were.” Combeferre pauses. “Maybe nervous is a better word.”

“I wouldn’t have called if I wasn’t uncertain.”

“Are you asking for my advice or my psych minor?” Usually Enjolras wants Combeferre to help him figure out what he’s really thinking, but Combeferre already knows anyway, and right now he wants to take the short cut.

“Advice.”

“Then go, now. You’re nervous about seeing him in his own space but you’re not about to let that stop you.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras says, heartfelt. Combeferre is exactly right, as always.

“Anytime.” Enjolras can hear the fond smile on Combeferre’s face before he hangs up. He shoulders his bag and picks up Grantaire’s jacket again, and heads off in the direction of his apartment. 

Once he gets there, he absolutely does not linger for fifteen seconds in front of the door before knocking. Not at all.

When a period of time that is definitely not fifteen seconds has passed, he knocks. He’s proud of himself, because it isn’t tentative or uncertain like he expected it to be. 

The door swings slowly open in response. Enjolras tenses up because he has seen this horror movie; Courfeyrac made him watch it. This is the part where he goes in and either finds Grantaire brutally murdered or is trapped and brutally murdered himself. Or option C) both A and B are correct.

Enjolras steps cautiously over the threshold and brings Grantaire’s jacket up to his chest like it’s going to protect him. The lights are on and Grantaire’s keys are in the bowl by the door, which bodes well, but there’s no sign of the man himself, which doesn’t. Enjolras looks at the disorderly shoes by the door where Grantaire must have toed them off, at the half-closed door that leads to Grantaire’s room. Maybe he was just tired; Enjolras decides to look in, make sure he’s there (alive).

He makes it halfway to the bedroom before he receives incontrovertible evidence that Grantaire is most definitely alive and most definitely not asleep. The moan is loud and low and it fairly echoes through the small apartment.

Well. Enjolras could leave, but if he left the jacket here it would be obvious that he’d come, and that would be horribly awkward. He could tell Grantaire that he’s there, and that would be horribly awkward as well. He could leave and take the jacket with him— but no, he’s already touched too many little things subconsciously, the key bowl, the shoes, the thumb lock on the door. There isn’t actually a way out of this that doesn’t involve horrible awkwardness.

Enjolras decides to go the least creepy route and let Grantaire know that he’s there. He gets nearly to the door before the sounds pick up again, little moans and whimpers with louder ones interspersed. 

The whimpers do something to Enjolras that he doesn’t want to analyze.

There’s a gasp of words half-voiced that Enjolras can’t make out and then another loud groan, and clearly Enjolras can’t interrupt this. Firstly because Grantaire seems so into it and that seems unkind, and secondly because Enjolras’s pants are starting to feel a little tight and Grantaire probably shouldn’t know that. More than a little. He tries to will himself calm again, but then Grantaire says ‘more’ like he needs it, like he’s willing to beg, and Enjolras just leans on the wall. He knows a lost cause when he sees it; Grantaire would be so proud. 

The moans pick up, faster and faster and with a soft sound of skin on slick skin, every now and then an odd kind of squelch— is he fingering himself? Enjolras feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Enjolras!” Grantaire cries out. He sounds overwhelmed, but Enjolras suddenly isn’t, anymore. He loves Grantaire and when he gets himself off, he does think about Grantaire, but it’s different being here and hearing his own name. He doesn’t want this to just be physical.

“I’m glad you’re attracted to me,” he murmurs, “but I love you.”

And then Enjolras’s heart stops, because Grantaire shouts ‘I love you too.'

It takes him a full ten seconds to realize that Grantaire doesn’t actually know he’s there. When he does, his mind is whirling and leaping and tentatively happy. The evidence would seem to indicate that Grantaire has feelings for him in return. Feelings that he thinks about when he touches himself. He hadn’t said ‘I love you,’ he’d said ‘I love you too.’ Grantaire must have been imagining Enjolras telling him that he loved him.

The sounds have stopped entirely. Grantaire might’ve even come because of that thought.

It’s speculation and Enjolras shuts it down, but oh, is it hot to imagine.

Then he counts to thirty, wills his cock to behave, and knocks on the doorframe next to the half-open door. He can almost hear the lack of movement as Grantaire freezes.

“Hello?” Grantaire asks. “I’m going to hope that that was someone upstairs or next door or something and if it is i’m sorry about the noise but if it’s someone in my apartment they should probably know that I’m, like, really good at martial arts and—“

“It’s me,” Enjolras says.

“Oh god.”

“Your door was unlocked.”

“Oh god.”

“Could we maybe talk for a minute? When you’ve cleaned up?”

“Um, yes, okay. I’m really, really sorry, I know I shouldn’t have—“

“Grantaire, I’m not mad.” There’s a sound of stumbling as Grantaire presumably goes for clothes, and a moment later he emerges in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Enjolras has seen him down to boxers before, it wouldn’t be anything new, but he supposes Grantaire has a right to be uncomfortable right now.

“You’re not?”

“No. The discussion I want to have isn’t about this, exactly.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Come on, let’s sit down.” They do; Grantaire sits on the couch and Enjolras on a chair across from it. Grantaire is bright red, and Enjolras tries hard not to speculate whether that’s embarrassment or lingering arousal.

“Are you sure you’re not upset? I mean, respect for people as people and not sex objects and all that? I just used you to get off, literally just now, while you were in my apartment, oh god.” The red gets darker and he hides his face in his hands, hands that have recently been inside himself— no, Enjolras can’t think about that right now.

“That’s not what it sounded like to me,” Enjolras says. It actually comes out composed, he’s very proud.

“What?” It’s muffled through his hands.

“You said you loved me,” Enjolras explains, and Grantaire’s exposed ears turn even redder.

“I did say that, didn’t I,” he gets out.

“Is it true?”

“It’s—“ Grantaire lifts his head a little so he can look at a point just over Enjolras’s left shoulder. "I’m somewhere on the demisexual spectrum, so your looks aren't— I mean, you look great, but it won’t do a thing for me. I need the feelings for it to, um, work.”

“But is it true?” Enjolras presses.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything—“

“I love you, Grantaire,” Enjolras snaps, frustrated. It’s nice that Grantaire is being so considerate, but what Enjolras really wants is an answer. “That’s why I need to know.”

“Oh.” His voice is small, but a moment later it becomes very flat. “I don’t need you to say things like that just because you feel sorry for me, I know it sounds pathetic when my fantasies are fucking endearments, but I can take it, I promise.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says very firmly, leaning forward, “I love you. You’re not pathetic, and there is no pity here. Look up and I’ll ask this very simply: Do you love me?”

“Yes.” The word barely escapes Grantaire’s lips, and he looks like he wants to snatch it back out of the air.

“Good,” Enjolras says. “I had considered asking you out before, but then I realized you were attracted to me.”

“And that’s a negative in your potential partner?” Grantaire asks, trying for humor. It falls a little flat, mostly because Grantaire still looks disbelieving, but it lightens the mood slightly.

“It is if he’s only attracted to me. I know I look good, and I don’t want that to be the only reason why he likes me.”

“It isn’t, trust me,” Grantaire says fervently. “So is this a thing that’s actually happening? You, in my apartment, listening to me get off, oh god, and then confessing your love?”

“Actually happening,” Enjolras confirms. “You forgot the part where I ask you out, though.”

“You haven’t actually gotten there yet.” Enjolras thinks, and realizes he’s right, and laughs.

“Will you go out with me?” he asks.

“Of course.” Enjolras smiles and moves forward, slowly and deliberately, until he can kiss gently at Grantaire’s mouth. It’s soft and sweet and lovely and Enjolras wants it to keep going possibly forever.

“What was that for?” Grantaire asks as he draws back.

“I would ask if I need a reason to kiss my— what, are we boyfriends now? Anyway, I would say that, but actually it’s because I wanted to make up for ruining your afterglow.”

“If this isn’t a dream, I’d prefer it to afterglow any day.” Enjolras frowns a little.

“Not a dream, not a hallucination, not fake or imagined or anything. I’m here and I care for you and I love you and I want you to know that and understand it and believe it,” he says in a low, fierce tone. Grantaire lets out a low sound and a shaky breath.

“You can’t just say things like that, Enjolras. Forget afterglow, that’s foreplay for me.” Enjolras smirks.

“Can I at least tell you I love you?”

“Any time you want.” Grantaire leans up and hesitates, like he wants to kiss Enjolras but isn’t confident enough yet. “I love you,” he says.

Enjolras gives him the kiss he was asking for.


End file.
